


What do You Mean You're a Straight Vampire, That's Not a Real Thing

by FlyingWerecats



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Babette is so done with you, Babette or Dovahkiin's POV, Because Akatosh has one hell of a sense of humor, Besotted 200 year old schoolgirl, Best Friends Forever, But efficient, Child!Vampire!Dovahkiin, Cicero was spared obviously, Extra lame ones, F/F, Here there be puns, Listener is insane, Notice Me Sinpai, POV First Person, Queervamping, Random questlines, Snippets, The last two were suggested by a friend, Why Did I Write This?, Will add tags and warnings as they come, Written as a writing exercise so it's not very polished, how do I even tag this, just for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2018-12-22 07:06:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11962257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingWerecats/pseuds/FlyingWerecats
Summary: “It’s been quite a boon, looking like a child. Nobody ever suspects a thing!”Truer words were never spoken, and I fell in love instantly.Of course it was only the idea of her that I had fallen for... but I didn’t care. I figured, give it a few centuries, and it’ll be real enough.Or, “The Child Dovahkiin meets Her Soulmate... and She’s Straight!”I wrote this entirely out of my own curiosity and amusement and you can't stop me.Expect a lot of references to game mechanics, glitches, and my own personal anecdotes from several hundred hours of gameplay.None of which is in chronological order.Enjoy!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a fic in which Babette has an unrequited crush on Aventus Aretino, this is just something that I write when I'm stuck on my other stories. As a Writer's Block Buster, I wouldn't get my hopes up on quality writing if I were you, but I do hope I can make you laugh a little!  
> First chapter is Babette's POV.

“BAAAAAAABEY, I’m HOOOOOME!”  
I resisted the urge to sigh, a feat of tremendous effort and willpower in and of itself.  
“Welcome back, Listener.” My response was the same as always; calm, cool, disinterested.  
Her response was _also_ per usual:  
She didn’t care.  
“I brought you something~”  
Centuries of practice dealing with children and drunk psychopaths (and on at least one occasion, a drunken psychopathic child) were put to the test holding back another sigh.  
“Listener, while I appreciate your... _contributions_ to my store of alchemy ingredients, with all due respect...”  
 _Please don’t be another bundle of nightshade._  
“Aw, don’t be like that! I brought you nightshaaade~” She dangled a bouquet of the poisonous flowers in front of me as I stood at my table, sorting through ingredients that didn’t need sorting through. I had long since discovered that our _great and powerful_ leader was a little reluctant to interrupt a family member when it looked like they were working. She had at least proven herself to have _that_ much respect for my craft.  
“ _Wonderful._ I was worried I was going to run out.”  
A few centuries were not enough to hold back the snark.  
Her grin only widened, then began pulling together until her cheeks puffed out like a true child as she attempted to pout.  
“Aw, but Babette~”  
“Listener,” I gave in to the urge to sigh. “We’ve been over this. I have more than enough nightshade and poison to supply the sanctuary for an entire _year._ I am running out of room to store it all, and I don’t appreciate-“  
“Aw, but I brought more than just nightshade! Here! Look! I brought-“  
“Listener.”  
“I know, I know! But that’s why I set you up with your own store room, and-“  
 _“Listener.”_  
Her cheeks puffed out again in mock annoyance.  
“Ciceroooo, Baby’s being mean to me!”  
A sharp laugh cut through the still Sanctuary air in response to her call. I caught a glimpse of red in my peripheral vision as I returned to my “work,” ignoring the bouquet as it was placed beside the alembic apparatus. The jester would have none of it; his face appeared beside mine, head tilted at a ludicrous angle that would’ve been more at home on a noose than a clown. As always, his cap stayed firmly planted on his head, gravity be damned.  
“Are the unchildren having a lover’s tiff?” he quipped. His tone was light, but I never did like the sound of it. Not since Astrid...  
“You know perfectly well that I have no need of nightshade, mountain flowers, thistles, lavender... or deathbell.” I added, catching the Listener in the act of balancing a bundle of them atop the nightshades. They beamed at the attention. “...or dragon’s tongue.” Cicero smiled innocently, despite the flowers that had appeared on the table before him. I glared at the table in dismay. “And stop cluttering up my workspace.”  
“What about redwort flowers?”  
“I still have half of the last shipment left.”  
“So... I should put these in the Poison Pantry, then?”  
“In the Alchemy Storeroom, yes. And _do_ place them with the others. I have enough work to do without sorting out the mess you make every time you go in there. D-” Catching myself in time to avoid a near fatal mistake... feeding into her need for attention and sarcastic remarks... I stepped away from the table and crossed my arms. “Take your mess with you.”  
 _Do you even know how to use shelves without scattering everything on the floor?_  
Cicero laughed, plucking the dragon’s tongue from where he had placed them. He vanished down the stairs with muffled footsteps and a speed to make a vampire uneasy.  
“Sorry, Babe-ette. Didn’t mean to make a mess of your space.”  
“Don’t call me that,” I sighed, against my better judgement. It was always best to remain impassive with the Listener... a reaction, any at all, would only encourage her.  
“Sorry.” She certainly didn’t look sorry. “But, hey... I actually _did_ get you something!” She stared at me expectantly, unfazed by my unamused stare. When it became clear that I was not going to indulge her, she leaned over the bundles on the table, stirring up the familiar, acrid scent of crushed deathbell and nightshade... the scent of poison. “Don’t you wanna know what it is?”  
“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me regardless of what I want.”  
She pouted, but only for a moment. “C’mon, _guess!”_  
“Nirnroot.” I could hear the plant echoing from within her bag, which meant she had brought me a living sample. An interesting and welcome contribution to my studies, but hardly worth all the fuss...  
“Nope! Close!” Her grin widened.  
Well now.  
This was interesting.  
“I see you have been to Blackreach recently,” I began carefully. “Should I expect a surplus of Falmer ear and glowing mushrooms in my stores?”  
Her expression faltered only slightly. She must have been very eager to present her gift.  
Sure enough, the red leaves of the plant... miraculously undamaged by the jostling of her near bottomless bag of wonders... radiated a dull red light in the gloom of my alchemy corner. It was both like and unlike any nirnroot I had ever seen, and I had to admit that as far as gifts went this was quite the accomplishment. I carefully ran a frond between my fingers.  
She had described the plant to me, but this was the first time I had ever seen it myself. The plucked specimens were rare enough, even with the Listener’s best efforts to locate them every couple of weeks, when she guessed they had had enough time to regrow. She and the jester would stumble into the Sanctuary, returning with tales of adventure and danger, of scouring the bottom of Nirn for plants and treasure, with nothing but their bulging sacks of loot and the remnants of wounds already healed to back them up. They would tell their stories as they ate, delighting in the horror and awe of any initiates who hadn’t yet had time to grow accustomed to them. In truth, they were enjoyable enough... if there was one thing I could appreciate about the Listener, it was her honesty. She was not above telling the tales of her own shortcomings, if Cicero didn’t get to them first, glancing around the table conspiratorially as he told us about all of the times the _great and powerful_ Listener had mistaken a chaurus chrysalis for an empty pod, only to shriek like a dying hagraven when it burst open. She would pretend to pout as we laughed, fleshing out his stories with huffed excuses.  
“It was _under a bridge,_ it was _dark!”_  
“I was _startled,_ not _scared!”_  
“We had just fought off _three_ of them, what were the _odds!”_  
“You like it?” Her grin was impossibly wide and far too hopeful.  
“It is... an excellent contribution to my studies.” I admitted. She beamed, and her sincerity was discomforting and obnoxious.  
There was motion beside me as she leaned in, stage whispering directly into my ear. It was not a pleasant sensation. “You know you missed me~”  
Then she was gone, thankfully doing as I asked and taking her heaps of flowers with her.  
She left me with the nirnroot.  
Crimson nirnroot is, for the most part, the same as its surface-dwelling counterpart... at least in terms of the uses I had discovered for it thus far. It’s stronger, though, more concentrated, and its ability to live and grow without sunlight is simply fascinating. I had been working to figure out how and why it was able to do this, with some help from the notes she had recovered from a diseased mer by the name of Sinderion, but I had yet to make a breakthrough with the plucked specimens. This... this living specimen changed things in ways the Listener could not possibly be able to appreciate.  
Oh, sure, I knew she dabbled in my art once in a while. But she was far too eager to pay me for my services to spend any real time honing the craft and developing a proper respect and appreciation for it.  
She mostly just jams things into her mouth.  
I’m not sure how she hasn’t died yet.  
Lifting the pot carefully, I carried the rare specimen down to my personal room... the Listener had seen fit to provide all of us, save the initiates, our own rooms. Mine was dark, illuminated only by glowing mushrooms and the occasional candle. It would be a perfect resting place, safe from the bustle of the Sanctuary. As... _persistent..._ as the Listener was, I didn’t expect a replacement from her if this one was destroyed. Not for many months, at least.  
It would be interesting to hear how she had come by this one.  
I wouldn’t have to wait long to find out.  
“...So then I thought, ‘this one’s already potted and everything! Do you think we could just... take this one?’ And then Cicero had this great idea to repurpose one of the dwemer bowls we picked up... which, honestly, is probably what Sinderion made his from _anyway,_ and we just sort of, dug it up with our fingers... Or rather, _I_ dug it up, while he just _messed around...”_  
“Oh, has the Listener forgotten what _cooking_ looks like already?”  
“What kind of _cooking_ involves _human hearts_ and _falmer ears?”_  
“Cicero admits, the falmer ears were a bit of a stretch, but I wanted to see if I could find a use for all of the _ears_ you keep cutting off and stashing away in your pockets!”  
“Hey, it’s my Blackreach calling card! Gotta promote my business _somehow.”_  
“Yes, we wouldn’t want the falmer to think there are _two_ thu’um-wielding vampire children setting them on fire and shouting holes in them.”  
“Exactly! I want them to know that when a short adventurer runs past them, probably wielding a devastatingly powerful enchanted blade, and screaming like a hagraven... that’s me.”  
“I _did_ like your troll kill, though... I thought the neck-impalement was a nice touch!”  
“Really? I thought their regeneration would make that extra painful, but it seemed a little _long-winded_ to me...”  
Nazir let out a groan, and I stifled the urge to join him.  
“If you two start making puns at my table again, you’ll be eating nothing but skeever haunches for a week.”  
“Well now, you can’t just provide the perfect set-up like that and not give a _rat’s ass...”_  
“By Sithis, I’m glad I’m not immortal... one day I’ll rest in the Void, and you and your rotten humor will still be here, plaguing the living.”  
She and Cicero laughed. Nazir almost smiled as he brought a tankard to his lips.  
I have to admit, banter over dinner will always be the highlight of my nights.


	2. Brief, But Vital First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You lil' dorks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragonborn's POV.

“W-who are you? Get out! I said get out! This is MY house! Well... It’s my family’s house... But it’ll be mine, when I turn 18! The Jarl said so, in his letter! You shouldn’t be in here!”  
I raised a brow.  
“I thought you were expecting me?”  
Finally, the moment of truth.  
How would he react? With anger? Disappointment? Tears? Rage would be my guess, followed by a temper tantrum and a lot of accusations about my being a li-  
His eyes widened.  
“I-it... It’s _you.”_  
_Oh._  
“You... you came... I knew it! I _knew_ you would!” Suddenly his face was far too close to mine. I took a half step back in surprise.  
In my defense, this kid was just stabbing the remains of a human corpse.  
...How he even got human body parts for his ritual was beyond me. He’d definitely succeeded, though, because I know what decaying flesh smells like, and that was it.  
“Wow! You look like you’re _my_ age! I didn’t know they let kids be assassins! Do you think _I_ could join some day?”  
_He’s... not even the slightest bit suspicious or unnerved?_  
_And his house smells like rancid death..._  
_What a stench._  
_..._  
_I think I like this kid!_  
_I’d like him even more if he would **get out of my face.**_  
I growled.  
“Who are you calling a child, boy?” I hissed, baring my fangs. He backed away, eyes wide as saucers.  
“Y-you’re... you’re a... a...”  
“Go on. _Say it.”_  
“You’re a _monster!”_  
I smirked.  
_“In more ways than one.”_  
“T-that’s... that’s...”  
_Aw~ So frightened! How **cute.**_  
“That’s AMAZING!!”  
...  
...  
_What._  
“I can hardly believe it! The Dark Brotherhood has _this_ kind of power? I wouldn’t have _dreamed_ it!!” He laughs, loud peals of raw relief and joy and amusement all rolled into one sound. “And they’ve got a sense of humor, too! Is that what took so long? Were you... busy with other contracts? I mean, it’s fine if you were! It’s fitting! Right? ‘Send a monster to kill a monster,’ right? That’s... that’s so clever! The Brotherhood thinks of everything!!” He clapped, almost dancing in place with excitement. I stared.  
I grinned.  
_I like him._  
_I really, really like him!_  
_If I were the type to adopt, I’d adopt this kid!_  
**_My son._**  
“What’s your name, kid?”  
“A-aventus! Aventus Aretino. Y-you don’t need to tell me who you are... I already know. You’re an _assassin,_ from the Dark Brotherhood! You’re here to take my contract!”  
“Yes... the contract...”  
“M-my mother, she... she died. I... I'm all alone now. So they sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften. _Honorhall._ The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind. But she's **not** kind. She's terrible. _To all of us._ So I ran away, a-and came home. And performed the _Black Sacrament!_ Now you're here! And you can kill Grelod the Kind!"  
“Are you sure about this? Having someone assassinated is no small matter...”  
Even if I _wasn’t_ really with the Brotherhood at the time, that didn’t mean that I couldn’t represent them _well._  
_See? I can be professional!_  
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my _entire life._ Someone like Grelod doesn’t deserve to live one more day. She’s a _monster._ Er... no offense.”  
“None taken.” I grinned. “I do hope you realize that assassins don’t work for free?”  
_...Hey, professionals get paid!_  
_A job is a job, am I right? If the DB doesn’t want this one, then I’LL take it!_  
“I have an old family heirloom you can have! Supposed to be sort of valuable... I-I hope that’s all right.”  
“Anything you offer is enough, little one,” I purred. Or attempted to, at least... How in the great scales of Akatosh’s _arse_ is an Imperial supposed to _purr?!_ “You have prayed to the Night Mother. And all who pray are answered.” I thought back to my mysterious benefactor, all those decades ago... the one who I had suspected for many years to have been a Sibling, a child of Sithis. I remembered something that they had said to me. Surely there was no harm in repurposing it? “So begins a contract, bound in blood.”  
_Mmm. Blood._  
_I haven’t fed in a day or two. Maybe I’ll hit up the tavern before I leave..._  
_Wait, no! Can’t get distracted! Gotta act COOL and mysterious for the kid!_  
_It’s a tradition!_  
_...Probably._  
“Awesome.” he said, sporting a wicked grin of his own. “And, um... would you mind telling the old hag that I sent you, i-if that’s okay?”  
“Of course. We often take such requests.” I was totally bluffing. I had been a follower of Sithis for over a century by this point, and I STILL knew almost nothing about him! I mean, I knew more than Aventus did... but only marginally. _How embarrassing._  
“Great! And, uh... please hurry. As much as I hated getting sent to Honorhall... I really miss my friends there.”  
I nodded, one sharp tilt of the head to show I meant business.  
...At least, I hoped that was how I came across.  
“It will be done.”  
I turned and went for the door.  
“Thank you! ...’Bye!”  
I didn’t respond, but I grinned at his boyish awkwardness. Partially because it was so ironically _pure,_ and partially because I’ve never been good at goodbyes myself.  
I prefer _goodnights. Lights out._  
But then, I’m not a ‘people person.’  
A monster, disguised as a child, killing a child-abuser in her own den.  
Let’s see how Grelod likes a little _poetic justice,_ shall we?


	3. With Friends Like These... Do It for Science!

The first thing I registered was the smell of blood, both old and new. I didn’t stir. I let the memories sink in slowly as I took in what I could of my surroundings.

_Damp. Cold. Indoors, but not in Whiterun. Farther north, maybe? Smells like a swamp of some kind... is that hint of salt the ocean?_

There were people there, moaning and whimpering nearby, and a nearer swishing of fabric like someone idly kicking their leg. _Waiting for something. Waiting for me?_

I remembered lying in my own bed. I remembered the letter. _We know._ I had been so excited! And if I was still alive... well, not _dead..._ then my suspicions had been proven correct.

_I was going to speak to a representative of the Dark Brotherhood!_

My head had stopped spinning. I opened my eyes, immediately catching sight of an armored leg. _Nice._ I followed the red and black leather up to meet the gaze of my first real assassin.

_Well. Confirmed, anyway._

“Sleep well?”

_Nice voice, too. Damn. I want to BE this woman._

I made a point of stretching and yawning.

“I’ll take that as a yes. You sleep rather soundly, for a murderer.”

“Don’t you?”

_I couldn’t resist._

The woman chuckled.

“I think you and I are going to get along just fine. Ah, but there is a slight... problem.” _I think I know where this is going._ “You see, that little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me, and my associates. Grelod the Kind was, by all rights, a Dark Brotherhood contract. A kill... that you stole. A kill you must repay.”

“You didn’t want it,” I blurted out. _Crud._

“No.” she mused, her leg continuing to swing lazily. I felt my anger flare up again, and tried to remind myself that this was fate. Sithis had guided my hand. There could be no mistakes. “But her life was ours to collect. Her soul belonged to Sithis.”

“Her soul is _with_ Sithis.” I had sat up at some point. I glared up at her, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that I looked more adorable than threatening from her angle. I tried to ignore the small hum of amusement she made.

“Even so. The Brotherhood cannot stand by and let its contracts be taken by adventurers like yourself. It’s... bad for business.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Funny you should ask. If you turn around, you'll notice my guests. I've "collected" them from... well, that's not really important. The here and now. That's what matters. You see, there's a contract out on one of them, and that person can't leave this room alive.”

“So... You want me to kill them, and in return...?”

“In return, you will be allowed to leave. But... which one is it? Go on, see if you can figure it out. Make your choice. Make your kill. I just want to observe... and admire.”

_You want me to kill someone for you... as punishment for killing someone for you?_

_Well. Far be it from me to complain!_

I turned my attention to the complaints of one of the prisoners lined up by the back wall. The most verbal of the three kneeling figures was an older woman, by the sounds of it. A nord, probably. Maybe from Riften. She sounded like she belonged to Riften. The man to her right was a coward, and was responsible for the whimpering and begging that I’d been hearing. The man to her left was a khajiit, and seemed the calmest of the three. _Suspicious._

They didn’t seem to hear my footsteps as I approached, but I wasn’t bothered. Their heads were all covered in burlap, and my movements were always quiet. Only the khajiit seemed to know I was there, head tilting.

“Ah, so we begin at last. I know you're listening. A man in my position makes lots of enemies. But what is a life-threatening situation if not an opportunity for mutual benefit? Hmmm?”

I didn’t respond. I was inspecting the... _goods._

That was also when I happened to glance upwards, where moonlight streamed through missing planks. A splash of dried blood caught my eye. It was nothing but a faint, dark smudge, but I didn’t need my heightened vision to spot it easily among the crumbling wood.

_..._

_....._

_......How in Mara’s tits did THAT get up THERE?_

I tried to imagine the amount of force, and what angle was required to create a blood splatter of that height. I ran some mental calculations.

_Well, you got me. By all accounts, it doesn’t make sense._

More out of curiosity than compassion, I decided to see what I was up against.

“Alright, ma’am. Since you’re being so chatty, why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

“I-“ her tone began angry, but she faltered. “What... are you a child?” she began to squirm in her bindings. “Let me go this instant! Shame on you! Using a little girl for your _sick_ games! Release me at once!”

“I assure you, ma’am. _I am no child._ ” Something about my voice seemed to stop her. The man to her right whimpered again, a quiet plea to the gods. Stars above, I was going to enjoy shutting him up. “Haven’t been in, oh... One hundred and fifty years?” I made sure to layer on the sweetness to emphasize my point. Something told me my new assassin friend wouldn’t mind what I was... in fact, she may have known already. I couldn’t be sure how far she’d followed me, or how much research she’d done before snatching me up.

“You... _monster._ ” She spat. I grinned, despite knowing that she couldn’t see it. "It’s none of your damned business who I am! If you're going to kill me, just do it already! As Mara is my witness, if I didn't have this damned hood on right now I would spit right in your face..." _Charming._

“It’s certainly not hard to imagine that someone would want you killed. But you tell me... would someone pay to have you silenced?”

“Excuse me? What kind of question is that?”

“Now, now. There’s no reason to shout. No one will hear you anyway.” I said sweetly. I was enjoying myself immensely. Again, she faltered.

“I’m... a woman living in Skyrim with six children and no husband. I don't have the time or patience to be 'nice.' Do some people look down on me? Have I made some enemies? You're damn right.” _Wow. Okay. Respect._

I turned to the blubbering mess beside her. I nearly reconsidered, but he was starting to get on my nerves. Might as well find out why.

“And you...”

“Is this about that raid last week? I _told_ Holgrim there was no honor in killing sleeping men, but he wouldn't listen! It wasn't my fault, I swear!”

I growled.

**“Shut up.”**

He did.

Pleased, I pulled a dagger from my belt and used it to tilt his trembling chin upwards. _A silent reminder which of us was the boss here._ “Good. Now. What is your name?”

“My... my name is Fultheim. I'm a soldier. Well, mercenary, really. You know, a... a sellsword. I've lived in Skyrim all my life. That's all! I'm a nobody, really. So can't you just let me go?"

 _Fultheim the Fearful._ I suppressed a snicker at my own joke. _What? I’m hilarious!_

“Hm. Would anyone pay to have you killed, Fultheim?”

“What? Oh Gods, I don’t want to die...”

“ **Silence.** Answer the question.”

“I... I don't know! I mean, I'm a soldier. I've killed people. When I was ordered to. Maybe there were some times... some times I got carried away? But war is war. Right? Nobody could blame me for that. Could they?”

 _I’d say they could,_ I thought. I kept this to myself, and withdrew. He let out a sigh.

“You’re... you’re going to release me now, right? ...Right?”

I stepped away, and his fidgeted in alarm.

“Wait... Wait, please! Let me go! I’ll... I’ll do anything you want!”

“If you interrupt me again you’ll be the first to go,” I snapped. He whimpered. Satisfied, I turned my attention to the khajiit. _Soft, pretty kitty._

“You'll let me go. I know you will. This is all just part of the game we play..."

“You sound like you’ve played a few rounds, kitty cat. Why don’t you introduce yourself, since I can’t see your collar beneath this hood.”

Instead of being angry, he just laughed.

“Ahhh... Vasha, at your service. Obtainer of goods, taker of lives, and defiler of daughters. Have you not heard of me? Perhaps I will have my people carve my name in your corpse, as a reminder. But then... monsters like you collapse into dust when you are killed, is this correct? Perhaps your ashes can be fashioned into ink for my pen." _Defiler of daughters? Who’d want a scumbag like you?_ If it weren’t for that comment, I would almost have been impressed! The keyword being “almost.”

I wanted to tell him that the vampires of Skyrim were a different sort, but I was from Cyrodiil. And honestly... I didn’t actually know for sure what kind of vampire I was. _Would_ I turn to ash when killed? Probably, but I hadn’t exactly had a chance to ask the vampire that had scratched me to tell me about itself before it had its head lopped off by a guard. _Ah, poor me... Daddy never even hugged me._

“I suppose this is a silly question, but in the interest of being fair... would anyone pay to have you killed?”

“HA! Silly question, indeed! The real question is, "Would someone pay to have me killed... again." A day goes by without someone trying to gut me in the street, I get disappointed."

_Honestly, same._

I hummed in thought, gaze flicking to the spot on the ceiling. Maybe if I...? Ah, but the bag was going to get in the way... The hood had to go. I drew my blade. A dagger wouldn’t do for what I had in mind.

The hood slid off with ease. I dropped it to the floor, taking in his reaction. His eyes scanned me calmly. It... kind of pissed me off.

“Ah. You have aged well. You don’t look a day over twelve.”

“Ten, actually.” I corrected, aware that I was more flattered than I should have been. _Dammit, it’s just a trick to get you to spare him._ I grinned, flashing him a wicked set of teeth, hoping the moonlight caught my glowing eyes just right to give me that “eerie child” look. I hoped I looked more demonic than serene. “Well, Vasha... looks like today you won’t be disappointed.” His eyes widened even as his teeth bared in a snarl, but I was quicker. My blade bit into his neck at an angle, and blood did indeed reach the wall... just not very far up. _Curses. Maybe it’s the fur?_

“What’s happening? Dammit, what are you doing?!”

The mercenary began his blubbering again. I rolled my eyes and yanked the hood off the next one.

“ _Demon child._ ” She made to spit at me, but her neck split open before she had the chance. _Hm. A bit higher this time, but not QUITE what I was going for..._

I lingered before pulling the hood from the next one. I just knew his reaction was going to be my favorite, and I wanted to savor his fear.

“Oh... Oh Gods, those _teeth._ Please! Have mercy!”

My grin must have been absolutely manic as I pushed him back and slit his throat mid-plea. He gurgled and choked. I dropped him in the dust, scowling at the ceiling.

_DAMMIT. Not even close!!_

I might have hissed in displeasure had it not been for the slow clapping that reminded me of my audience. I flushed with pride and joy. I was being applauded by a member of the Dark Brotherhood!

I replaced my blade as I trotted back to where she reclined atop an old bookcase.

“Well, well, aren't we the over-achiever? Three possibilities, three victims. Must have been one of them, right? So why take chances..."

“More like, why waste the fun?” Her mouth was still covered, but I could tell she smiled at that.

“Indeed. I like your attitude, and you’ve repaid your debt in full. Here’s the key to the shack.” She held out the key and I took it. “But why stop here? I say we take our relationship to the next level.” _Is... is she suggesting what I think she’s suggesting? Is this finally happening, after more than a century of worship?!_ If my heart hadn’t been dead already it would have skipped a beat. “I would like to officially extend to you an invitation to join my Family.” _Ahhhhhhh-_ “The Dark Brotherhood.” _–AHHHHHHH-_ “In the southwest reaches of Skyrim, in the Pine Forest, you'll find the entrance to our Sanctuary. It's just beneath the road, hidden from view. When questioned by the Black Door, answer with the correct passphrase: "Silence, my brother." Then you're in.” - _HHHHHHH OKAY. Okay. I’m cool. We’re cool. It’s cool. I got this._ “And your new life begins. I'll see you at home.”

_EEEEEEEE!!_

Thankfully I’d learned to control my facial expressions over the years. My poor maiden heart was exploding, but outwardly I remained professional. My steps were even as I stepped up to the doorway, and my hands didn’t shake as I slid the key into place and turned it with a _click._ I was cool and confident as I stepped out into the fog, shutting the door behind me to be polite.

I fist-pumped as soon as I was free.

Swallowing my fangirlish shrieking, I surveyed the land to get my bearings. _Looks like I was right. That’s Solitude up there, if I’m not mistaken. Well. Falk Firebeard HAS been trying to get a hold of me. How convenient!_

The sun was just beginning to rise as I set off across the bog, skirting the water and cursing at mudcrabs as they snipped at my ankles, startling me more than hurting me. I had to hop across a few ice floes, and wasted nearly an hour waiting for daybreak to chase away some gargoyles that were patrolling the cliff beneath the Blue Palace, but eventually I reached the road and began the exhausting trek uphill to the front gate, cursing Skyrim and Solitude and everything else straight to Oblivion as I went. _I’ll take five miles of flat plains over one mile uphill any day._

Still. Nothing could quench my good mood, and by the time I reached Solitude I was smiling. I was halfway to the palace before I froze.

_Shit I forgot Lydia._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, In Breezehome...  
> "My Thane? My Thane, I know you warned me never to wake you before noon, but I'm getting worried. My Thane? ...Alright, I'm coming in. Please don't tear my throat out....  
> .............  
> ...............Oh, this might as well happen."


	4. I'm a Petty Individual, We've Been Over This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a true story.

“...Alright, alright! I’ll do 100 septims for the lot of it, and not a coin more!” Tonilia glared down at me sternly, then broke down and laughed. “It’s hard to take you seriously when you look like that, kid. How many vendors have you screwed over looking like a sweet little street urchin?”

“Do you want an honest answer?” I grinned. “I don’t know if I can count that high yet, Ton!”

She scowled, but I could see the faint smirk she was covering up.

“Don’t you go using nicknames you haven’t earned. You can call me Ton when I _say_ you can call me Ton, are we clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now scamper off with your coins. Don’t spend it all in one place.”

“Actually, I’ve got more for you.”

“If it’s more clothes and books, then forget it.”

“No, no, it’s... here. Look.”

I heaved the sack to her feet and dropped it. The clang of metal caught her attention. She peered inside.

“...I’m not buying this.”

“Come on.”

She sighed.

“Why would you steal this? I know you’re young, but I didn’t think you were _that_ stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, it’s petty.”

Her brows arched. She snorted derisively.

“You expect me to believe you stole someone’s silverware and emptied out their closet and bookshelves for no real profit because it’s _petty,_ and you want me to believe that that’s _not_ the epitome of stupid? You could have at _least_ found a bone to pick with someone who had _valuables._ ”

“I did. I just haven’t sold them to you yet.” I grinned my cheekiest grin.

“So you’ve wasted my time on useless junk instead of getting to business?”

“No offense, but I don’t exactly see a line here. Besides, I’m not even going to sell you the silverware, or any of the stuff in this other sack.” I kicked the sack in question as I said it, hearing a dull _clunk_ and rattle from within. “I know it’s worthless. I took it to make a point. I’m honestly surprised you bought the other stuff. Just... just take it off my hands. Please?”

“And what would I want with all this junk?”

“You could eat with it?”

“I have my own cutlery. Look, if you aren’t going to take my services seriously, then you go away. I have more important things to do than to babysit Brynjolf’s new protege, no matter how promising he might say you are...”

“Nonono, look, just... I have jewelry! I took valuable things too! I just... I really need to get rid of all of this stuff, it’s heavy and I don’t want it!”

“Then you shouldn’t have stolen it! Why did you take it in the first place if it wasn’t worth the weight?” _I resisted the urge to snicker. It was an amazing feat of self-control._ “Stupid. You’ve got to play it smart, child. Experience is greater than talent.”

“I know that! I know that! Just... I wasn’t going to sell everything I stole, I like some of it and some of it is for... a lady friend. I haven’t decided yet what to give her and what to sell off... Just take the silverware and junk! I don’t care what you do with it, throw it in a ditch, throw it in the lake, use it for target practice, I don’t care! It’s yours now. No charge. Consider it my gift to you. Happy Saturalia.”

“You’re a few weeks early for Saturalia. But fine. I’ll find something to do with it all.”

“Great! Now about this jewelry...”

“Not until you tell me what this poor sod did to make you raid his kitchen in the middle of the night.”

“Oh, it wasn’t at night. I did it in broad daylight. It took a while, too.”

“And he didn’t notice you making off with half of his belongings?”

“Oh, it wasn’t half. I took all of it.”

“You what?” Her tone was disbelieving, but her smile betrayed her. Was it really that hard to believe the girl who broke into Goldenglow had managed to pull one over on a peasant?

“Yup. Up in Solitude. You know the Fletcher?  It was the guy who runs that, whatever his name is. I didn’t touch his apprentice’s room, but I cleared out literally everything else.” I ticked the items off on my fingers as I said them. “His utensils, his food, his gold, his underwear... Pretty much everything that I could lift and carry...”

“...Why?”

“He got snippy with me. I dunno. I was mad.”

She rested her forehead in her hands and snickered.

“Kid, if you didn’t make me so much money...”

“You love me~” I grinned.

“I love the gold you make me. Alright. Let’s see that jewelry. It better be worth all this fuss.”

“Okay, so I’ve already ruled out these rings, because I don’t think they’d fit her anyway. As for the necklaces... which do you think goes better with a morbid personality? Onyx? Or maybe a ruby, for some color? Do you think she’d prefer plain, or fancy?”

“I could not possibly care less. Aren’t you a little _young_ to have a lady friend?”

“Aren’t you a little young to sound this cranky?”

“Watch your tone, young lady.”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

“Hm. Why don’t you just sell me everything, and use the coin to buy her something that fits when you’ve decided?”

“Ooh, that’s a great idea!”

“Just be aware that I’m not haggling with you on any of this.”

“That’s fair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't remember what he said that set me off. You would think the gals at Radiant Raiment would be the victims of this sort of thing, wouldn't you?  
> In the Listener's defense, she's from Cyrodiil. Silverware was theft-worthy in Oblivion.


	5. It Was Fun for the First 10 Hours...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Highlights from the quest location we all love to hate.

_Crunch._

“ _Ugh._ What is this stuff?” I glared at the orb in my hand. It was still a bit sticky from plucking it out of its mound.

_Beautiful, but gross._

_...like me!!_

“Looks like a chaurus egg to me.” He nodded. “Yes, Cicero has seen them in alchemist shops.”

“Huh. So it’s an alchemy ingredient, then... I’ve never seen these in the wild... maybe I’ll finally get to find out what a chaurus looks like?”

“Ooh~ Do you think we can make boots out of it?”

I grinned back.

“Only one way to find out~ But first...”

The orb was roughly the size of an adult’s palm. I opened my mouth as wide as it would go and jammed the entire thing inside in one motion.

“Well, it’s not poisonous,” was all I could choke out.

 

“Watch out for the traps,” I called over my shoulder as I weaved between the floor plates and shouted a startled falmer into the wall before making short work of it with my dagger. I turned around and yelped. “ _Do you have to get right in my face like that?!_ ”

“Sorry.” He didn’t look very sorry. “I thought you would have heard me coming.”

_Yeah, right!_

I looked back at the traps.

“Huh. You really didn’t step on one of them.”

“Did you want me to step on one of them?”

“No, but... look, usually my followers are _morons_ who don’t pay attention to me when I say things like that, and then they blunder into the traps after I’ve passed and I get to watch and laugh at them.” I mock glared at him. “You spoiled my fun.”

He giggled. “We could always invite a few _expendables_ on our next expedition. That _does_ sound like fun!”

“You know what? It does.”

A guttural snarl interrupted our bestie bonding moment, and we both turned towards the sound.

“Do you...”

“...want to lead it...”

“...into the traps?”

We grinned at one another.

Not for the first time, I marveled at the unlikelihood of meeting another person as perfectly in sync with my own insanity as this. _And to think! Astrid wanted me to kill this whirlwind of murder! What a terrible waste that would have been!_

When we had finished laughing at the screams of the falmer, we set off again down the corridor. I was on the lookout for anything that could be described as a chaurus. Cicero was evidently lost in thought.

“Do you think,” he began, and I immediately perked up. There are never bad ideas between us! Only good ideas that go horribly, horribly wrong. “that if you turned a falmer into a chicken, would it taste like chicken, or like falmer?”

_!!!_

_Why didn’t I think of that?!_

“That... is an excellent question. And what if it turns _back_ into a falmer eventually? What if it turns back in your stomach? What then?”

“Maybe your stomach would explode?”

“Or maybe it would just stretch. Then you would give birth to a dead falmer.”

“From your arse?”

We burst into laughter.

“H-hey, arse birth... is very serious!” I gasped.

_Clunk._

A tapping and skittering sound grew louder nearby, and I sobered immediately.

“Oh no you _fucking don’t._ ”

Maybe I use the unrelenting force shout too much, but you know what? If it works, it works. And sending a spider automaton crashing into a wall so hard it shatters on impact is just all around a good feeling, okay?

“Have I ever told you that you are an inspiration?”

“Have I ever told you that you are delightful?”

He snickered. “You’d be the first to say so in a very long time.”

“Well, I mean it. We’re both going to get so distracted watching each other kill things that we’re going to die and then we’ll be in the Void, watching other people kill things.”

“And how will we die?”

“We’ll be fighting... dragons. No, trolls.”

“Dragon trolls.”

“ _Fuck yes._ We’ll be fighting dragon trolls, of the frost variety. And they’ll be undead or something? I dunno. And there’ll be like, fifty of ‘em. And we’ll kill most of them, but then the kills will be so awe-inspiring that we’ll be motionless with appreciation and the last two of them will disembowel us.”

“What an awful way to go!” he said cheerfully.

“I know!” I exclaimed just as cheerfully.

_Alduin ain’t got shit on the two of us._

 

We were still deliberating over the long-term effects of reintroducing chickens to the ecosystem of the falmer underground when we stepped into Blackreach for the first time.

Now _that_ is how you end a conversation, my friend. Breathless at the sight of giant mushrooms glowing above you, streaming down like huge jellyfish floating in a vast subterranean pool. You gaze out at the fading distance, unable to make out just how vast the chamber really is, acutely aware of how small and insignificant you really are.

I, uh... needed a bit of boost to get that far.

From atop Cicero’s shoulders I gaped at the cavern.

“ _Fuuuuuck_ we are never gonna find this thing, are we.” I looked down. “Hey, pull that lever there.”

He did. A ballista fired a bolt that crashed into the door of a nearby building, startling a falmer who drew its weapons and came towards us to investigate. I hummed in thought.

“Okay, so as soon as it gets below this railing... I want you to throw me at it.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. But do it anyway.”

 

“I cannot believe we found this damn thing.”

Cicero hummed in agreement and stepped past me to investigate something. I just stared up at the contraption in amazement. How does one even begin to describe the work of the dwemer? Blues and golds and metal and clockwork and everything put together so gracefully that you almost want to stamp it into your brain, so that you never lose the memory. And that’s just the _aesthetic._

“...Okay, I’m bored now.”

There was a ramp leading up to the buttons to control the machine, and a stand that looked ready to receive something. _Now how the heck does this thing fit in here?_ I stuck the blank cube thing... I think Septimus called it a lexicon? ...into the stand. _Well, something happened, so I’m gonna call this a victory._

I poked at one of the newly revealed buttons and watched the floor of the chamber revolve. _Is that supposed to be some kind of... giant globe depicting the stars, or something?_

_Whatever. I don’t get paid to think._

It was cool the first couple of times. Then it just got really, _really_ annoying.

“Now... Cicero is not an expert in dwarven technology...” _Godsdammit._

“There are oNLY TWO. GODS. DAMNED. BUTTONS.” I slammed a fist against one of the stands. _OW!_

“Perhaps if you were taller...”

“Perhaps if you were dead...” I mocked back. To prove a point I leaned upwards and pressed the button on the taller stand. The entire ensemble below us shifted again. I groaned. “Look, it obviously can’t be that hard, there are only two buttons...”

“According to this book, the other buttons open up once you press the first two correctly.”

“ _Great,_ does it say what the correct sequence _is?_ ”

“Nope.”

“ _Of course not._ ” I rolled my eyes. “Whoever wrote that is probably dead.”

“I assure you he is very dead.”

“Great. So it’s got to be some sort of... this needs to be in a certain position, and then I need to hit the other button, something like that... that’s the setup I’m looking at, right?”

“Most likely.”

“So I just keep button-mashing until it works?”

“Don’t look at Cicero unless you want him to stab it.”

“I’ll keep that option in mind.”

I kept pressing buttons, trying to watch the patterns of blue glass on the globe beneath us while doing so. This proved difficult, since the taller stand was hard to see over, and I ended up giving up and just pressing them with wild abandon as quickly as I could. I was about to scream in frustration when Cicero made a noise of appreciation, and the blue plates attached to metal arms that had been folded near the ceiling unfolded and began to descend, rearranging themselves as they did so. The other two buttons were revealed, and I looked at them for a moment, wondering if I’d have to start over if I pressed the wrong one.

_Hmm. Maybe I should be cautious here..._

_Nah, fuck that!_

“Interesting.” Cicero hummed, and I stepped aside to get a better look at the capsule as it popped open, bathed in bright, holy light. A scroll was visible inside. I cheered.

“Hell yeah, first try!!”

“Are you so excited that you’ve forgotten how to count?”

“Shut up, you knew what I meant!” I glared at him. “I just found a fucking _Elder Scroll_ by outsmarting an _ancient dwemer artifact_ and all you can say is ‘interesting’?!”

“I was actually thinking of how stupid that corpse on the ground level must have been to get as far as he did and still fail. I mean... you weren’t even _trying_ to solve it, and you got it in one try _._ ”

“Heck yeah, I did!!” I thundered down the ramp... then remembered my original goal. “Oh, uh... does that cube look... transcribed to you?”

“It does! It’s glowing!” He held up the cube, which was indeed lit up from within, highlighting its engravings. I gave him a thumbs up.

“Great, you keep an eye on Septimus’ glowy cube thing, I’m gonna do hero shit.”

I could hear him snort from the foot of the globe, although that might have been my enhanced hearing. Or, you know... the room was a pretty great amplifier.

_I bet if you plunked a chorus of singers down in here you could turn it into a pretty sick concert hall!_

“Don’t you snort at me! I’m a hero by day, we’ve been over this!”

“You assassinated the Emperor in broad daylight! Slew him aboard his own ship outside the biggest port in Skyrim...”

“So I’m not a very _good_ hero...”

“...after slaughtering his entire personal guard...”

“Okay that was a matter of personal justice!”

“...stole as much loot from the scene of the crime as you possibly could...”

“I needed souvenirs!! They weren’t using it!”

“...and escaped unseen, which is really quite impressive considering you didn’t drown on the way back to shore!” His tone shifted from joking to reverent. _Either’s good, I deserve a bit of groveling._ “You are a _living legend._ You will be remembered as one of the _greatest assassins to ever live._ Or unlive, I suppose.” He giggled. “The Night Mother has chosen well! I _knew_ she would!!”

_Alright, so we’re back to singing and dancing again, that’s cool._

“Okay, so maybe I’m more of an... anti-hero? Slash villain? Some of the time? Look, can we just agree that I am the nicest most evil person you know?”

“Oh, yes!” He clapped. “You helped poor Cicero! You spared him! You are certainly... merciful!”

“Great, so now that my conscious has been soothed,” I paused to let him snort with laughter. I grinned. “I’ve got the scroll. I gotta say, this is even more disappointingly anticlimactic than I was expecting it to be. After that whole fiasco with the horn I was expecting to be disappointed, but this was almost worse than getting all the way here just to find the thing missing again!”

“You jest! You jest!”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “It definitely would’ve been worse to go through all of that and have nothing to show for it.”

_Plus, I remember those godsdamned chaurus hunter fledglings. Way to make ME look like a tough, cool adventurer!!_

“I guess now we just head out. We’re done here! Let’s go open up a rift in time!” I headed for a door I hadn’t noticed before, nestled underneath my Button Hell Station.

“Oh, dear. I believe Cicero has traveled with the Listener long enough to know where this is going.”

“What? We’re done here, we’re leaving, the quest’s over, we’re going home.”

“Yes, but leaving is the hardest part.”

“What, are you saying I can find an _Elder Scroll_ but not the _door we came in?_ ”

“It’s more of lift. And I believe history has proven that outcome to be... unlikely.”

“I’ve got a clairvoyance spell! We can literally _follow it out!_ ”

“Yes, like we ‘followed it out’ of Dawnstar on the way to Winterhold, and ended up in Dawnstar.”

“...Okay, that... I don’t have any excuse for that. So the spell’s a little wonky sometimes, sometimes I lose concentration or my intentions get sidetracked...”

“You set us back by a day once when you took off after a particularly dexterous butterfly and stumbled on a bandit’s camp outside a cave...”

“ _That godsdamn butterfly._ ”

“I don’t believe the Gods had anything to do with it. I think the Listener is just bad with directions.”

“Bad with... I’m _great_ at finding shortcuts!! It’s the maps who are wrong.”

We stepped out into the expanse of Blackreach. I held up my hand and released a burst of white light, just long enough for a glowing trail to manifest in front of me. I kept the spell at the ready as we walked in the direction it pointed in, casting it intermittently just to confirm that we hadn’t taken a wrong turn.

_Might as well exercise my... brain, I guess... while we walk. That cat at the college is tough to impress. I wanna wipe that smug smirk off his fuzzy face._

“We’re going to climb the tallest mountain in the region later. I don’t know about you, but I don’t fancy climbing every peak from here to there.” _Why not?! Think of the time we could save!_ “Cicero is no mountain goat. Cicero will take a cart.”

“Shadowmere is faster than a cart.”

“Cart drivers don’t try to climb mountains.”

“I’m telling you, ‘Mere is part mountain goat, or something...!”

A splash of acid hit me dead in the face from the darkness beside the path. _Gah! I HATE chaurus!!_

I backed off to heal my eyesight. _The clown’ll be fine. He stabs dragons in the face, he can handle a bug._

_I am not going near another one of those things. I’m just gonna summon an atronach or something and sit this one out._

A familiar raspy snarl put an end to that idea.

_Well, shit._

 

“Ugh... I can’t believe I had to actually use a magicka potion in there...”

“I don’t want to say I told you so...”

He nimbly dodged the dagger I jabbed in his direction, laughing at my half-hearted attempt to poke out his kidney. The enchantment of the blade send pale green wisps dancing across its surface as I returned it to its place on my belt.

“Not. a. word.” I deadpanned. “Not one word.”

He began to pantomime.

“ _Clever clown._ ” I rolled my eyes. A small smile tugged at my lips as I tried to appear more cross than I was. “Just for that, you’re carrying me up the steps to High Hrothgar.”

“Why don’t you just ride Shadowmere up them? It is a mountain, after all.”

“He carries the bags, he deserves a rest. Also, I respect him.”

“Fair enough!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I will never subject you to a full textualization of everything that happens in Blackreach. I will never make you read that with your own two eyes.  
> These two have a bipolar dynamic. Also, I subscribe to the headcanon that when Cicero refers to himself in 3rd person and 1st person, he's referring to two distinct versions of himself. (The Jester and the original.) Some people headcanon that he took the name from the jester along with the clothes, but I hc that it's his pre-crazy name. Not necessarily his birth name, but the name he was using in the Brotherhood before the attack on the Sanctuaries. I mean, believe whatever you want, either's cool. (Sometimes he might get mixed up with the perspectives, though. Sometimes it's hard to tell who's who in there!)


	6. Fetch these Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come at me brother.

“But I still hear the call of blood.”

“We all do. It is our burden to bear. But we can overcome.”

“You have my- hang on. Ma’am, this is no place for children. I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave.”

“My thane is no child, and she will go where she pleases! You dare insult the savior of our city?”

“Lydia, Lydia... please.” I cut her off with a raised hand. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Probably wouldn’t be the last. “I’ve got this.” I cleared my throat. “Gentleman.”

I glanced between the two men where they were seated in the living quarters of Jorrvaskr. The first man was visibly concealing a sneer. I knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling in that moment, and I wanted nothing more than to prove him wrong. _Boy, I sure hope you’re my initiation fight. I’m gonna LOVE bashing your teeth in!_

I gazed calmly up at the amused elder that I assumed to be Kodlak Whitemane.

“Fight me.”

They laughed.

I scowled.

“I assure you, my thane is very serious...”

“Can it, housecarl.” I held up my hand again. She scoffed. _Full offense, but I’ve got this. You just stand there and hold my loot... I mean gear._

“What are you, some kind of nobleman’s daughter?” The man no longer made any attempt to hide his contempt. “This isn’t a beginner’s course for children who want to play with swords. And while we’re at it, that’s no way to talk to a warrior who knows how to wield one...”

“At ease, Vilkas. Let’s at least hear the little lady out. As you were, little one.”

I could feel my scowl deepen.

“I thought I made myself pretty clear. I want to join the Companions, which I _assume_ requires some proof of my strength, which I am eager to provide. Ergo... _Fight me._ ”

I wasn’t kidding. There’d been a brawl in the mead hall above us and I was _itching_ to spill some blood. _Ahh, I love the smell of pain of the morning~_

“You dare talk to the Harbinger like that? Run along home to your parents, kid. This isn’t a nanny service.”

“Watch your tongue when you speak to my thane-“

“ _HEY._ Put a lid on it, Lyds.” I glared up at her and she had enough sense to look sheepish as she stepped back, letting her hand drop from the hilt of her sword. I had to admit, I was equal parts flattered and annoyed by her zeal in defending me. I was certain she suspected me of not being what I seemed... I had made no effort to conceal my identity as we traveled. Maybe she didn’t care who or _what_ she defended? ...Or maybe she really was that dense. _Hard to tell._

“Yes, let’s all remember to be civil. Although, I’m afraid Vilkas is right, little one. We don’t employ young ones, and this is not a safe place to begin your training. But let me look at you...” He pretended to examine me. “Ah, yes. You do possess a certain strength of spirit. Perhaps you will return to us in a few years?”

I did the only thing I could do.

I stamped my feet furiously and brought my fist down on their table.

“I’m not a child, dammit! I was cursed!! By magic!! I’m like, 23 years old!”

That was a lie. I had passed the ‘something-twenty-three’ marker several times by this point.

“Sure you were.” _Urge to punch Vilkas intensifies._ “Does your mommy know you’re out here telling tales?”

“Vilkas, please. They’re only a child.”

“ _I am not! **Fight me.**_ ”

“My thane... perhaps a letter from the Jarl would be-“

I pointed at Vilkas.

“ _Fight me._ ”

“I’ve had enough of this...”

“You have tarnished my honor!! I challenge you! Fight me!”

“Look, girly, I don’t hit kids but you’re making the offer very tempting behaving that way.”

_Girly?! He did NOT._

My fists were clenched and I was bouncing on the balls of my feet.

 _“Fight.me.fight.me.fight.me._ ”

He growled. “That’s enough. Sorry for the disturbance, Master. I’ll escort them out right away.”

“I am nobody's master, Vilkas. And I am always willing to lend an ear for someone with a fire burning in their heart.”

The snotball made to grab at my arm, and that was when I decided that I’d had enough.

“Fus RO!!”

I would have used the whole shout, but I wasn’t so sure this flimsy old place wouldn’t come down on our heads. Also, I wasn’t sure they’d consider me if I murdered one of them. They’d probably fine me. Or something.

_And dammit, one way or the other SOMEBODY was going to FIGHT ME._

I did put a lot of force into the shout for having just the two words, and sure enough it sent him stumbling backwards into the wall with a satisfying _thud._ I grinned at his dumb, thunderstruck face. _Or is it dragonstruck? Ahh, I’m hilarious._

“What in Shor’s name was _that?_ ”

“Oh, that?” I gave him a shit-eating innocent smile. “That was just a little trick called _the Way of the Voice._ Yeah, I learned it by training with the Greybeards and _fighting dragons._ ”

He huffed as he straightened himself out, rubbing his shoulder blade and rolling his neck. “Like Hell you did.”

I let the smile drop. “Perhaps I didn’t make this clear.”

I drew on him and deliberately aimed one of Kematu’s scimitars at his face. The red glow of an enchantment pulsed along its length, offsetting how ridiculously disproportioned it was to my tiny body. _No fair! They looked way cooler when he was trying to kill me with them!!_ The enchantment was a weak one, but it was damn decent for my novice enchanting skills!

A complete lack of professional training has never steered me wrong before!!

The universe just trolls me sometimes.

With frost trolls, mostly.

Like that one on the Throat of the World. _I swear I’ve killed you TWELVE TIMES now you DAEDRIC MONSTROSITY._

If my amateur drain health magic- what? It’s _thematic!_ \- and lack of proper form impressed him at all, he managed to contain his excitement.

That is, until I unleashed my _secret weapon._

I narrowed my eyes as I maintained my upwards gaze into his own. Which is to say, I squinted sort of menacingly at him. He didn’t appear to be menaced, but I was not discouraged. Clearly this man had the dynamic facial expression of a billboard. The surest sign of a master of the concealing arts... every actor knows your face can’t betray your true emotions if you have none.

I enunciated as clearly as was vampirically possible.

_“I’m the godsdamned Dragonborn, bitch.”_

_And I mean that literally, you big hellhound. Think I can’t smell the blood of the wolf on you? THINK AGAIN!_

Honestly, how the guards of Whiterun could notice the howling and the smell and still put two and two together and get _seven_ was unbelievable.

...No it wasn’t. Who am I kidding? I could drop a bucket on their head and steal their keys and they’d still pester me about sweetrolls and dragon attacks. New recruits still ask about the whereabouts of my parents to this _day._ They never learn.

They aren’t hired to think.

Neither am I, but I get paid more so we know where the brains lie between us.

Whatever Vilkas the Vitriolic had been about to say was cut off. _Drat! He could have been about to drop some truly scathing remarks! Now we’ll never know._

“There’s no need for that. Actions speak louder than words, and you’ve... well, you’ve made your point loud and clear.”

I beamed.

_Emphasis on the loud, right?_

“Master... Kodlak, you aren’t seriously considering this _whelp,_ are you?”

_Look who’s talking, Puppyman!!_

“There’s no harm in giving her a fair test. After all, you and your brother were only children when you arrived. The Way of the Voice is painstaking to master, and is only taught by the Greybeards. Either she is who she says she is, or she is a prodigy. Either way, she is no ordinary child. Just remember this is a dual and not a battle.”

He heaved the kind of practiced sigh that only those poor dramatic souls who bear the burden of perpetual chips in their shoulders can sigh. “Fine. I’ll test her arm. But I don’t feel comfortable fighting a child.”

“Not a child!” _Gods, were you even listening? And Farkas called you the smart one!_

“Even so. It doesn’t feel right to fight a child’s body, even without a child inside it.”

_Well that’s a delightfully demented way of putting it! ‘Here, fight this empty husk-child!’_

“Come on, then.” He stepped past me without bothering to slow his stride for my condition. My underdeveloped-legs condition. I chased after him.

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” I told him as I caught up to him. My grin was enormous. I snapped my fingers. “Lydia, carry me up the stairs.” I felt bad for the verbal abuse, so I threw her a bone. “Be a dear?” I even batted my eyelashes. She dutifully scooped me up. I tried to ignore the way Vilkas snorted without bothering to look back. I stuck my tongue out at him.

_I’m gonna kick his ass!!_

_..._

_......_

_..._

_He nearly kicked my ass..._

To be fair, I’m not exactly built for _melee,_ if you’re catching what I’m putting down. These little arms are made for clasping, not punching... these soft cheeks, for luring cheek-pinchers into shop shadows for a quick bite! I’ve got the keen eye and the sharp reflexes, but there’s only so much strength you can pack into these tiny muscles, vampirism or not. _And I am at max capacity!_

Still, considering my size and lack of experience working without magic or shouts, I thought I fared pretty well!

“That wasn’t half the disaster I was expecting it to be.” _Oh, you and your poisonous, honeyed words! Stop it before I blush~ Oh wait, no. That was just a gag reflex. My mistake._ “I guess Kodlak was right. Maybe you’ve got potential after all, pup.”

_You’re not subtle. You think you’re being subtle but you’re really just swimming in stupid. You could literally say ‘hey guys, I’m a werewolf. Just kidding!’ and they’d be dense enough to believe it._

Ah, what the heck! I myself am guilty of a little candid wordplay now and again. Also, puns are my weakness.

“But make no mistake, Greybeards or no Greybeards you’re still a whelp to us, new blood. That means whatever you are outside these walls, whoever you order around out there, in here you’re just a recruit. So you do as we tell you. Here's my sword. Go take it up to Eorlund to have it sharpened. And be careful, it's probably worth more than you are.”

“I doubt it,” I muttered, taking the sword. I would have said more, but that was about the time that two guards managed to push their way through the cheering throng that had gathered to watch us. I dusted myself off, acutely aware of how amusing and _adorable_ I must have seemed to everyone, picking a fight with someone more than twice my size. The guards, however, weren’t the least bit amused.

“I thought I told you to stop all that shouting!”

I squinted at him. Had we spoken before? _They all look alike to me!!_

The second guard crossed her arms. “Are you trying to bring down Jorrvaskr? You can’t go using the Voice indoors, you’re going to damage the foundations! What if you set off an earthquake or something? You could level the city!”

_Why do I have this violent urge to call you ‘mother...’_

“Sorry, officer. Won’t happen again.”

“You said that _last_ time. And the time before _that._ ” The first guard held out his hand. “That was your last warning. Now pay your fine or come with us.”

I sighed. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a surplus of gold on me, it was the _principle_ of the thing that bothered me! Reluctantly, I pulled a small bag from around my neck. 100 gold, pre-counted for just such an occasion.

...What? I get fined a lot! You’d think being the Dragonborn would be enough, but apparently even world heroes gotta answer for misdemeanors. Kudos for the dedication, I guess?

“Does she make a habit of disturbing the peace?”

I grit my teeth in an effort not to snap at him. _Bad Vilkas. Down, boy!_

“You could say that,” the first guard grumbled as he pocketed my fee. “What, you haven’t heard? She likes to climb onto people’s roofs and shout herself from one house to the other until she falls off. It’s a terrible racket.”

Vilkas raised a brow at me. I threw up both arms in defense.

“I’m... practicing my aim! The Whirlwind Shout can be tricky! Too much force and you slam into a wall, too little and you fall into the abyss, better I fall here than off an Ayleid... I mean, a Nordic ruin!! Then who would save Nirn?” _Probably someone competent. Is that what you want?! A competent hero?!_

“Well practice somewhere else. You sound like a dragon roaring overhead, and it’s causing a panic!”

“They only make that mistake because they’re morons,” I groused under my breath. _Not my fault._

“What was that?”

“ _Nothing._ ”

The smallest of smirks appeared on Vilkas’ face. I didn’t trust it.

“Don’t worry. We’ll keep her under control.”

“You’ll have our thanks, if you can.”

“Don’t you have an errand to run?”

If my teeth weren’t supernaturally strong they might have cracked under the pressure. But I bit back my words before he could have the satisfaction.

“Come on, Lydia. Let’s see what the fuss over ‘Skyforge steel’ is all about.”

“Yes, my thane.”

“And carry this sword.”

“...Yes, my thane.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't mind Vilkas, but the Listener... she is not a fan.

**Author's Note:**

> I know Crimson Nirnroot probably wouldn't survive well above ground just let me have this.  
> (Plus if it dies the Dragonborn will just find her another eventually.)  
> Why didn't they just take the entire pan from Sinderion's lab? Because the Listener can't interact with it, duh! (Also the Nirnroot keep growing in it even though they're harvested by the roots and that makes literally no sense but the Listener cannot be arsed to care. Better to leave it in it's proper habitat, or whatever. She kills things for money, she's not a biologist. Also it's heavy.)


End file.
